Holding Hands With His Memory
by YouCan'tControlMe
Summary: He was taken. Taken from her, too early. It wasn't right. She wasn't right. She wasn't ready. Jade-centric, kind of really sad. A oneshot, my loves.


**A/N: So I was really not in a good mood when I thought of this. I hope you like it, but it's kind of sad. I guess. I'll be updating Busted soon, and if you don't read it you can check it out if you want. Um, review, favourite, follow, do whatever. I'd love to know what you think. I'll be uploading another oneshot like, now. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognisable.**

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The most dangerous person is one who has nothing to lose.

It had almost been one whole year since he left.

No, since he was taken.

Taken from her.

And instead of getting better, she was getting worse.

She didn't want to do anything. It wasn't that she was trying to make a fuss, or gain pity, or because she was too 'sad' to do whatever, it's simply because she didn't want to. It was boring. It was such a- such a MUNDANE thing to do, and really, how could you go back to being mundane when you had experienced the speed of light, the eighth colour of the rainbow, the sound of a million things all compacted into one voice?

When you had experienced love?

It's not guilt, he hadn't been driving to see her or anything. It was just an accident. A normal, ordinary accident, when a few people died.

And really, as harsh as it seemed, she couldn't give a flying fuck about the others.

What mattered is that he was there when it happened. And now, he isn't here any more. And he never will be.

Her friends noticed. They noticed the immaculate clothing, the perfect grades, the faultless social act. They noticed before anyone else did. But they also noticed the way the clothes hung off her sharp body, the way she had dark circles under her eyes from staying up late, the forced 'mean girl' comments that came from her.

They didn't do anything about it.

They would never regret anything more in their entire life.

It's not like her parents cared. Her father was busy with work, and her step-mother was busy with her 'friend' Jeremy. Her mother was somewhere in Vegas (and she wouldn't be surprised if she was currently situated on a pole).

So she just carried on.

Carried on wasting away into the looming shadow he left behind, holding hands with his memory.

She didn't eat, she hardly slept (and when she did, it was filled with nightmares of the best kind), she wouldn't hold a conversation with anybody that lasted for more than thirty seconds, and would either snap at you or walk away seemingly calmly if anybody asked her if she was okay.

No, she wasn't. She really wasn't. She was so not okay that she couldn't cry. Even when she went to visit his gravestone. She would just sit there, staring at the block of stone that, effectively, marked her death as well.

Every now and then she would gasp out his name, a sound that made the flowers on neighbouring gravestones wither, whilst somehow making his look more vibrant.

To people that hadn't been in love, she looked a little crazy. To people that were in love, she was their greatest fear. And to people that had been in love, she was just a new recruit to the army of lovers with no other half.

It's not that she hurt, really - it's not that her heart hurt or whatever else there was in those stereotypical sad movies that chimps could probably direct, she just felt... Achey.

Like every joint in her body needed him like oil. She felt like she was rusty. She couldn't move fluently. She could dance, of course. She was a natural dancer. It would be hard for her not to dance. She had to quit salsa though. Too much him. It was like the movements weren't part of her anymore, though. She would ace all the dance moves, and get As all around, she just wasn't... Putting her soul into it like she did before-

Before he left.

She would lie in bed at night and just wonder why. And what. And when. And the worst one was remembering. Because she knew deep inside her, no matter what anyone else would say, that she would never feel the emotions that she felt with him ever again.

And that really, really sucked.

She needed him.

There was no point in denying it any longer.

She needed him so, so much.

It wasn't like before, when they would break up and then realise they needed each other like oxygen, then get back together. It wasn't like that anymore. They couldn't get back together. And it was the worst feeling anybody could ever have. Knowing that the one thing you need more than anything in the world was gone, and you'd never get it back again.

That was the hard truth. She'd never get him back again.

One day, Tori came to visit his gravestone, and met Jade there.

She didn't even notice her. She just sat there, staring at it with this sad gaze that turned Tori's insides to dust. It was like someone had just scratched a blackboard. A chill went down her spine, and for a split second she felt a fraction of what Jade did. Just a fraction. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she fell to the oddly soft grass.

"Jade, I'm-"

She turned around, the perfect black and dark red curls bouncing furiously. Her face was murderous.

"You? You're here? Of all the people? You? You're what? You're sorry? You're sorry that he's gone? Well, guess what, sunshine, so am I. What, have you come here to comfort me whilst I cry? Whilst I sob out his name? Then move on? Are you going to spread rumours about me? Saying I never loved him? I did. I loved him more than you could imagine. But you don't know that. You don't know. So why don't you just fuck off, hey? Yeah, just get off that skinny ass of yours and get out of here, because I don't need you. I don't need your pity. I'm okay in my own. Is this another conquest of yours? Do you have to befriend me? I don't need your friendship, Vega. I don't need you. Okay? Have you got that through your thick skull?" She said, her eyes glinting like the many rings on her fingers, her chest heaving up and down angrily as she tried to control her breathing.

"Listen, Jade, it-" Tori started.

"What, Vega? I already told you, I do-" this time it was Jade who was cut off as Tori leant in and gave her a bone-crushing hug. She used al the strength she had to try and share the pain. To try and take some - any - of the hurt away.

She lost it.

She broke down, all the unshed tears from the past year streaming down, mascara mixing with them and drawing cracks all over her porcelain face.

They stayed like that, sobbing into each other, though Jade much more than Tori, until it was dark and they had to go.

Tori hadn't looked Jade in the eye since. It was cowardly, but she felt she might break if she caught a glimpse of all the broken that Jade was feeling again. So, she just didn't bother, and tried to ignore it.

What she didn't know, is that what she just did broke Jade even more. Tori wasn't meant to be there then, she wasn't meant to see her, Jade wasn't meant to cry on her. But, she was there, and it did happen. And she let Tori see a part of her that Jade hadn't shown to anyone other than B-

Him.

And she hated that.

It was too much, too little, too fast, too slow, all at the same time. There were the outlines, but nobody had coloured the pictures in.

She hated colouring.

It was coming up. She would have been on this planet for a year without him. And there was still so much of her life left. And she felt like crying in despair at that.

Jade West doesn't like having problems.

She was going to fix the problem.

She had a plan. The best she'd ever had.

It was all there. The clink of the bullets filled her head with a terrible clanging, and the gun she had stolen from her fathers case was heavy in her hand, the barrel feeling awkward when she tried to load it.

They wouldn't find her. No one would hear the gunshot. Her father and stepmother wouldn't be home for at least a week, and her mother wasn't exactly any use.

It was perfect.

She briefly thought of who she'd leave behind, but then she realised that if they actually mattered then she wouldn't currently be lifting the gun up to her mouth.

She put it in her mouth, the smooth metal feeling foreign and tasting like... Tasting a bit like death should, if she were to embrace her hidden poetic side.

This was the happiest she'd been all year. She was genuinely smiling around the gun, only one word on her mind.

"Beck, Beck, Beck, Be-"


End file.
